


Shifting

by spyfodder



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Angst, Fellatio, M/M, PWP, Swearing, in his mouth - Freeform, more like one old guy feeling the other, old guys having a feel, r76, really - Freeform, soft things, this was just latenight venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 18:04:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyfodder/pseuds/spyfodder
Summary: He didn't mind the nightmares much, as long as they brought Jack to his side.





	

The sun had been bright, but it was eclipsed by the laughter that his own personal sunshine gave.

Ana and Major in their sunhats and swimsuits, throwing water at each other, at Jack, whose smile was seemingly endless.

Then it was nighttime, and stars dotted the sky, and the suit across his shoulders still felt too tight, but just tight enough to let the touch that slid across them feel just right. 

Blue eyes, squinted in humor, and Jack was smiling again - they all were. 

The smile went away, though, under the stars, when two grown men ran into the treeline like children escaping chastising, where it was caught beneath the press of lips. 

Jack moaned prettily for him, always, that sweet country boy who had learned to fuck like a man by a man.

He liked to think they marked that tree that night and had left their scent. This was their territory. 

Jack was his territory. 

-

A wheezing gasp heralded his waking. He felt as if he had gained a tonne in weight and he was molded to the mattress beneath him, skin soaked with sweat and sheets kicked off. A glance to the side, and the blue and white jacket that had followed him home was still filled with a body, poised next to the window, silver hair catching moonlight and looking like some emotional art piece from a teenager. 

Blue eyes, even though he couldn’t quite see the color at this distance, laid on him, and the gaze burned him. Reignited him. 

“Bad dream?”

“Turned into a nightmare when I saw you.” Lies. No one else he’d rather see after broken memories that brought back more broken feelings that no amount of glue could fix. He was tired of hating and loving at the same time. So tired.

“Asshole,” a puff of a near laugh, and the jacket was coming off. Shirt, pants, swathes of ghostly skin - funny, wasn’t he supposed to be the dead one? - revealed. Ghostly, but warm, and comforting, against his own clammy and shivering flesh. 

“Only been out about an hour,” it had felt like a year. He didn’t feel any less exhausted. 

“Shoulda brought liquor to tuck me in.” A grin. Maybe next time, it promised. The wraith’s breath caught as the gust from living lungs panted over his throat, and the weight of a halfway corpse straddled him. 

Lips were expected, and not unwelcome. 

“Relax,” the old thing murmured, and it was all he needed to do so, crimson eyes rolling back and closing as rough warm hands laid on his chest, massaging in a familiar movement, thumbs pressing deep to roll over ribs that ached. 

Fucking was out of the question, at least at the moment. Too messy, too involved, and both too tired to do anything toward it. Seemed like Jack at least had something up his sleeve, even if out of want to put death to sleep. 

He bit his lip, something he couldn’t remember doing in the past, as the ugly chill was chased away by balmy breath and lips and tongue, kissing and sucking and pulling at dark skin, causing a different kind of goosebumps to rise. Still remembered his old tricks pretty well, he thought wryly. 

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ say ‘Death comes’ again or I’ll leave you hanging, shitbird,” Jack growled, and Gabriel didn’t need to look to see the smile on scarred lips.

“No promises,” the Lord of Edge murmured around a gasp that was pinched out of him by the wet, hot mouth that drew his half-hard cock in, tongue flat on it’s belly and gentle, fluttering suction making his heart pound in his ears and erection come to full mast in that sweet pit. 

“Fuckin’ ay,” sighed, and Jack’s growling amusement vibrated around his cock as the man between his legs took to fondling and squeezing his balls, in familiar tandem with the hollowed cheeks that hugged the sides of his dick, the tongue that rubbed circles beneath the head and then all back over again. He didn’t even hesitate nuzzling his nose into coarse pubic hair every other dip he took to take Gabriel to the back of his throat, the sloppy noises and feral sounds coming out of the old ghost making his stomach twitch and hips thrust up eagerly.

Fingertips curled into short silver strands, standing out bright in the dark of the room and against the flesh of his thigh and fingers themselves. It was a good look. So was Jack’s closed eyes and the way his lips were thin around his cock, slick and frothy with spit and pre-come. 

“Jack,” breathless, restless, he pushed himself up onto an elbow, gripping further into the starlight hair, fixated on stroking his hand through the mess, gripping at the back of his neck. He didn’t have to buck too much, his ghost more than skilled in getting him off, but there were a few stutters of his hips, his breath, before he swore again, and Jack buried his nose against his crotch as he came into wet heat, better than any cunt, because none of them swallowed so sweetly.

Collapsed back into bed, feeling warm at last and the cold sweat replaced with something more pure, Gabriel did not fight or move when Jack came to lay halfway on top of him, lips on his chest, pressing insolent kisses over his heart and up his neck. 

“Kiss me,” ordered softly, and rosy eyes turned to blue. Fingertips followed an unforgotten path that was the dip and curve of a spine and back that had once been littered with more bite marks than scars at one point in it’s life. Gabriel would have to change that, he thought, once more carding through silver hair, pulling the other man close and slotting their lips together like one of them didn’t just have a dick in his mouth and the other one didn’t give a good goddamn about it because it was at least one thing they could share without fighting over it.

The way his sunshine-now-moonlight lost his breath through his nose as their tongues slid together in delicate negotiation was endearing. How old bones in worn out fingers dug into his side reminded him that he was at least glad about being here for the nightmares and memories and dreams that were kind of okay… at least if they brought Jack to his side and he could feel the very palpitation of the other man’s soul that ached just as much as he did. 

“Don’t leave in the morning,” gruff, and tired, and there was a familiar grin. He shoved Jack’s head down against his shoulder before he could ruminate on it, and the little shit laughed raspily. 

“Just make sure you don’t go leaving, either.”


End file.
